


Somewhere Between Heaven And Dean

by angelofthequeers



Series: Season 12 codas and fix-its [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actually he's a lot like Dean, Anal Sex, Angst, Asexual Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues, Coda, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depressed Castiel, Episode: s12e15 Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, Explicit Consent, He doesn't care about sex but he loves watching Dean, Hmm I wonder where he picked them up from, Just a reference to S8, M/M, Romance, Sex-Indifferent Castiel, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: Dean feels betrayed. Castiel feels broken. But Castiel will always choose Dean, no matter what - even with Heaven's request and his own self-worth issues. But at the same time, Castiel's finally had enough of how he's treated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> I JUST HAVE CAS BABY FEELS OKAY.
> 
> (Also wow I haven’t written as Cas in so long)

 

“I…need some time to think,” Castiel says once he and Kelvin have used the portal to Heaven to transport themselves back to Earth after meeting with Joshua. Kelvin grins at him and claps him on the shoulder.

“Course,” the dark-skinned angel says. “You think about it, Castiel. But lemme say, there are still plenty of us who’d love for you to come back. Myself included.”

Castiel seriously doubts this. After all the times he’s rebelled against Heaven, then returned, then turned his back once again…well, it’s a wonder he hadn’t been killed the minute he’d set foot back up there – the way the other angels had looked at him is a testament to this. He suspects that the only reason he’s still alive is due to Joshua’s intervention, so Kelvin’s statement doesn’t exactly ring true with him. Nevertheless, he gives Kelvin a tight smile and strides back to his car in what’s probably a far more confident manner than he deserves to be able to exhibit. He doesn’t really even deserve to still be alive, not after everything he’s done, and a tiny part of him resents Crowley for saving his life after Ramiel’s attack and keeping him bound to this place to keep breaking everything he touches.

When he slips into his car, he drives off – but only far enough to remove him from Kelvin’s radar. The minute he knows that Kelvin can’t sense him anymore, he pulls over and takes a moment to close his eyes and sag in his seat. This is the first time he’s been able to let his composure crumble in what feels like an eternity, and he has to force his tear ducts to not produce any tears or he’ll probably have a very ugly meltdown. He’s just so tired of being strong and unyielding. Everybody expects so much from him – between being there to assist Sam and Dean, finding Kelly Kline, atoning for his mistake in freeing Lucifer, and now Heaven’s expectations of him to help them kill Lucifer’s child – and he’s truly surprised that he hasn’t just exploded yet like Lucifer smiting somebody.

Why _couldn’t_ Lucifer have just smote him? Why couldn’t Crowley have failed to figure out how to reverse the Lance’s effects? Then Castiel wouldn’t still be around to make an even bigger mess of himself. He doesn’t even know why he’s considering aligning himself with Heaven again, when he _knows_ that it’s going to end in bloodshed. It always does. He’s always been the freak angel, the odd one out.

_“I’m an angel of the Lord.”_

His words from so long ago echo in his mind. Yes. The angel with a massive crack in him. The one who’s never quite worked right.

His ‘pity party’, as Dean once called it, is cut short by his phone ringing. His stomach swoops when he sees that Dean is calling him and he feels light, and now he remembers just why he keeps going when he wants to give up.

“Dean,” he greets. The last time he’d updated Dean – about Kelly and Dagon – had been before he accompanied Kelvin to Heaven, several days ago. Why is Dean calling? Has he found out something regarding Kelly? Or does he need something else from Castiel?

As sick of being used as Castiel is, he’ll always do what Dean asks of him. It’s an obvious fact, one that makes up a fundamental part of his being, and everyone except for Dean seems to know exactly how far he’ll go for the man he loves.

“Hey, Cas.”

Dean sounds tired. Castiel wants nothing more than to gather Dean in his arms and hold him close, but Dean will never allow that. In fact, he’ll probably _lose_ Dean. This prospect is simply unacceptable.

“I don’t have any more news,” Castiel says apologetically. He should tell Dean about Heaven. Keeping secrets always works against them in the end. But then Dean will lecture him about making a decision that he already knows to be dumb, and right now he just wants to lose himself in Dean’s voice and pretend that he’s not a failure of an angel and that Dean does love him.

Now he knows why fantasies and emotions have always been discouraged in Heaven. But he would never trade his feelings for Dean for anything.

“Not why I’m calling. I just…” Dean’s voice breaks. “Where are you, Cas?”

“Not far. Maybe an hour’s drive. Why? Are you okay? Do you need help?”

He hates that he’s so enamoured with this human. But he supposes that he’s never really had a choice. Not after having the privilege of touching Dean’s bright, slightly twisted soul in Hell. Most of the damage has faded – though Hell has still left scars – but Dean’s soul is still the most beautiful thing that Castiel has ever seen, and the ability to see it had been one of his biggest losses when losing his grace.

“Nothing’s wrong. I – I just wanna see you. No hunting, no Kelly Kline, no Lucifer…”

Castiel frowns at the request, but he still won’t deny Dean what the man wants.

“Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

True to his word, it only takes him an hour to make it back to the bunker. He almost knocks but then remembers that Dean has very firmly told him that this is his home. Funnily enough, it doesn’t quite feel like home. Nowhere does.

“Cas!” Sam exclaims when Castiel makes his way down the bunker stairs. The younger Winchester is surrounded by books and papers, but he ignores them in favour of greeting Castiel. “What are you doing here?”

“Dean called me. Is he in his room?”

Sam nods.

“Yeah. Hasn’t come out since we got back from hunting.”

That effectively ends their conversation, so Castiel makes his way towards Dean’s room. He loves Sam – he truly does – but he’s not in a very conversational mood, even if guilt does simmer inside him at brushing Sam off like that. When he reaches Dean’s door, he knocks and waits.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice calls. Castiel swallows, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling inside him.

“Yes.”

“C’min.”

Castiel’s careful as he opens the door and slips inside, then closes it behind him. Dean’s sprawled on his back on his bed, down to only a T-shirt and jeans, and Castiel nearly gasps at the strong wave of affection that surges through him at the sight.

“Hello, Dean,” he says. Dean’s eyes open slowly and the mess of sensation inside Castiel intensifies when Dean’s gaze locks on him and then he smiles. Castiel gives him a small smile back.

“Heya, Cas.”

As Castiel crosses over to sit on the bed, Dean sits up. His dark blond hair is tousled and Castiel would love nothing more than to run his fingers through it, to hear the sounds that Dean would make, but he restrains himself. He doesn’t have that right and he never will.

“What is it, Dean? Why did you call me here?”

“Can’t I just hang out with my best friend?” Dean says with a grin. Castiel just squints at him. These days, Dean never just wants to ‘hang out’. He can’t remember the last time Dean has summoned him for a purpose other than assistance. Dean’s grin fades.

“All I want tonight,” he shrugs. “No hunting, no anything. I just need a night off.”

“Why don’t you ‘hang out’ with Sam?”

Dean gives him a vaguely hurt look. Castiel’s stomach churns at this. That look shouldn’t be on Dean’s face. Dean deserves nothing less than to be happy all the time, even if this is impossible.

“Got better things to do, Cas? Sorry for dragging you away.”

Castiel nearly flinches at Dean’s tone.

“No, I – Dean, that’s not what I meant. I always enjoy being with you. I just wondered why you wanted to spend time with me and not Sam.”

He sags in relief when Dean’s expression clears, but this is soured by his realisation that Dean looks _tired_. It isn’t even a physical tiredness that Castiel would be able to cure; it’s Dean’s mental and spiritual exhaustion projected through his physical body, and it breaks Castiel’s heart.

“He’s working with those British assholes, alright?” Dean says after a moment. “That case we just came back from? Every case we’ve done since ganking the Alpha Vampire? He told me he had some fancy schmancy computer that was giving him cases but it was them. He _lied_ to me.”

Dean looks away, his face hardening. If Castiel was allowed, he would take that face in his hands and kiss away every line, every sign of pain…but he has to settle for resting a hand on Dean’s forearm in a gesture that’s already far more intimate than socially acceptable for friends. Not that Castiel’s ever shown much regard for social norms. He still has a habit of invading Dean’s personal space, which Dean doesn’t reprimand him for anymore – probably thinking that Castiel is still ignorant to social customs – and he never allows himself to feel that slight hope that maybe Dean actually enjoys it.

“I dunno why I’m surprised,” Dean mutters. “Lying to each other? Always been a huge problem. But I said I was cool. I agreed to work with those assholes until they made me even a little suspicious.”

“And have they?”

Dean shrugs, his lip curling.

“Not yet. But…Cas, they tortured the shit out of Sam and he’s still playing ball for them!”

“Haven’t they claimed that Toni Bevell was a rogue operative?”

Dean snorts.

“Yeah, yeah. ‘We dealt with her’ and all that shit. But why the hell did Sam go behind my back and lie _again_? We’ve been down this road, Cas! How many times have we lied and backstabbed each other? I just didn’t fight Sam ‘cause we always go down this road and I know how it goes. Fighting’s only gonna get one of us kicked out.”

While Castiel is glad that Dean trusts him enough to rant to him like this, he can’t deny that it also hurts that Dean’s once again using him as some sort of emotional crutch. He can’t remember the last time Dean has asked him how he is in relation to anything that’s not a near-death experience – especially regarding his love confession when he was dying. There had been an unspoken agreement not to talk about that, but Castiel still feels embittered at the thought. It’s just like the aftermath of Lucifer’s possession, where Dean had given him one speech in the car and then pretended that everything was fine. Yes, Dean is emotionally crippled, but Castiel is tired of nobody seeming to care about him and his emotional state, even if he doesn’t deserve that sort of concern. He’s a selfish creature, after all.

“What about you, Cas?” Dean’s voice shakes him out of his thoughts. “How’re you? Seems like I’m always dumping my shit on you without asking how you are.”

“I’m…fine,” Castiel says in surprise. “There’s no need to worry about me, Dean.”

Dean snorts again.

“Bullshit. Last time you called, you didn’t sound right.”

Castiel just frowns at Dean. Dean’s never seemed to be able to tell if he’s not okay by the tone of his voice, but maybe he hasn’t been giving the man enough credit. He has to tell Dean about Heaven. Dean’s right: secrets only fracture their relationships, and every secret he’s kept in the past has only led to pain and destruction. He’s not even sure that working with Heaven is the right choice…but what else can he do? They’re the only ones who seem to care about him at the moment, even though he’s aware that he constantly returns to them with his proverbial tail between his legs as though he’s returning to an abusive relationship. Actually, that’s a rather apt description. But, as toxic as the angels are to him…they’re still his siblings, and Heaven was his home for millennia.

“I…was in Heaven for the past few days,” he says slowly. Dean’s immediately alert and frowning.

“They let you back in? Don’t they hate your guts?”

Castiel twitches at the reminder that he’s hated by his own brothers and sisters.

“They want to help me find Kelly Kline,” he says. “I spoke to Joshua, who has returned to help them with this ‘all hands on deck’ problem, as Kelvin described it. He agreed to…to pardon me of my crimes if I help them.”

Dean’s gone so still that Castiel’s worried that one touch will shatter him.

“And you’re gonna do it.”

It’s not a question.

“I asked for time to think.”

“You’re _thinking_ about it? Cas, they fuck you over time and time again!”

“I _know_ , Dean. But despite all of this…they’re still my siblings. Heaven was my home for billions of years.”

His stomach drops when Dean laughs derisively and stands up.

“So you’re gonna go running back to those sons of bitches _again_ ,” Dean scoffs. “They’ve tried to kill you – they’ve tortured you – and _we’re_ your family, Cas – but sure, you still wanna go sucking up to beautiful old Heaven and the oh so loving angels!”

“Dean, they were my family for most of my life!” Castiel stands up, not allowing Dean to tower over him, so Dean snorts for the third time and turns away. “I can’t just forget the place that I regarded as home!”

“ _We’re_ home, Cas! _We’re_ your family!” Dean turns and grabs fistfuls of Castiel’s trench coat, pulling him closer, and all Castiel wants to do is lean in that tiny fraction closer and press his lips to Dean’s. But he resists. Not only will he anger Dean, but he’s too furious himself.

“Home? Family? You don’t care about me any more than Heaven does!” he shouts. This seems to physically wound Dean; he lets go of Castiel’s coat and steps back, shaking his head.

“Wow. Thanks. Nice to know exactly what you think.” Dean’s voice shakes with anger. “I called so that we could just hang out – y’know, because I thought I could talk to you –”

“Exactly!” Castiel bursts out. “You called because _you_ needed help! I love you with every fibre of my being, Dean, and I will _always_ be there to help you when you need it, but when is the last time you’ve asked me how I am? You’ve talked to me about my possession by Lucifer _once_ and then we pretended that it never happened! And then I told you that I _loved you_ , and we didn’t even talk about that! What am I supposed to think?”

Dean’s standing stock-still, his face pale and his eyes wide.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,” Castiel says, his voice wavering. “Dean, you have no idea how much I just _don’t care_ – about myself, about what happens to me –”

“Don’t say that.” Dean’s voice cracks. “Don’t you _dare_ say that, Cas.”

“Why not? It’s the truth. I told you four years ago that I would kill myself. I don’t know if you took me seriously but…nothing’s changed, Dean. I don’t care about myself at all. The only reason I’m still alive is so that I can be of use to you, but I can’t even do that right. I don’t know why you keep me around.”

The look on Dean’s face breaks Castiel’s heart. He tries to turn away, mumbling a weak excuse that he needs to continue his search for Kelly Kline, but Dean’s hands shoot out and cup his face, effectively rooting him to the spot.

“I ‘keep you around’ because I _care_ about you, Cas,” Dean says quietly. In an attempt to avoid his gaze, Castiel’s eyes flick down to his lips and he once again wishes that he could fit his own lips against them. “God, you’re my best friend. Scratch that…you’re _more_. You think that confession’s only one way?”

“Isn’t it?” Castiel murmurs, puzzled. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Christ, Cas, you know I’m an idiot.”

Before Castiel can ask what he means, Dean leans in. The angel’s mind suddenly goes blank as those lips he’s been fantasising about gently press against his own, and his eyes flutter shut as he kisses back. It’s nothing like the rough kisses he’d shared with Meg, or the deceitful ones from the reaper. It’s heat all through his body, and light filling every inch of him, and he feels more in this moment than he has in years, and it’s nowhere near enough but it’s also way too much.

“You think I don’t care about you?” Dean says in a hushed voice when they separate and Castiel vainly chases after his lips. “I care way too much, Cas. And it terrifies the absolute fuck out of me. You know I don’t do feelings.”

This is all well and good but Castiel’s had a taste of those amazing lips and right now, he just wants more. He wants to drown in Dean, to let Dean fill him up until nothing else matters. For the first time in so long, he feels _alive_.

“Dean,” is all he says before he’s capturing Dean’s lips in another kiss, gripping Dean’s shoulders tightly. This is the closest he can come to touching Dean’s soul without causing the man pain but it’s still not enough. He curses the frailty of humans and how he can’t truly touch Dean’s soul without risking him imploding.

“Want you, Cas,” Dean mumbles against his lips. “God, I want you.”

“You can have me, Dean.”

With this permission, Dean takes hold of his trench coat and carefully pushes it down his shoulders. Castiel frowns but allows him to remove it, unsure of Dean’s intentions…until Dean does the same to his suit jacket. Oh. Dean wants to have sex with him.

“Dean…”

“Hey, I got you.”

“No, I – stop.”

His admiration for Dean grows when the man immediately stops undressing him and steps back.

“What’s up, Cas?”

“You want to have sex with me?”

A small smile crosses Dean’s face.

“Course I do, man. You’re sexy as fuck. _You_ you, not your body. Not that your body’s not hot –”

“I’m confused.”

Dean rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling.

“Well, generally if you’re really into someone, you want to have sex with them,” he says. “I’m really into you. You do the maths.”

“There is no mathematics involved in this.”

Dean just smirks at him and he realises that this is just another human saying.

“So, I _have_ to want to have sex with you if I’m…‘into you’?” Castiel says slowly. “Dean – I want to be as close to you as possible, and I _love_ you, but I don’t – I don’t feel the urge to have sex with you. Does that mean that I _don’t_ love you?”

He’s starting to panic. Fantastic. Dean probably thinks that he’s a great fool.

“Hey, hey.” Dean catches him by the arms and gently guides him to sit down on the bed. “Talk to me, Cas. When you look at me, how does that make you feel?”

Castiel pauses and examines Dean, his head tilted. He then tries to describe exactly what he’s feeling but it’s difficult; he’s never been very good with emotions.

“I feel…warm,” he says. “My insides flutter. I want to be close to you and kiss and touch you. I want to hug you. I want to take all of your pain away because you don’t deserve it. I just want to make you happy.”

Dean’s cheeks are flaming by the end of Castiel’s description but, to Castiel’s pleasure, the man is smiling.

“That’s it? You don’t feel…I dunno, like you wanna do sex things with me? You don’t look at me and feel like you wanna smush crotches? Like you wanna…y’know…stick your dick in me or something?”

Castiel blinks, and it takes a moment to decipher what Dean’s trying to say.

“I – no. I don’t feel drawn to you in a sexual way. Should I? Does that mean that I’m broken, Dean?”

Panic starts to rise in Castiel again. He knows that he’s broken – that’s been a given for years – but if he can’t even get something so fundamental right –

“Hey, Cas, calm down.” Dean pulls him into a tight hug. “Breathe.”

Castiel hadn’t realised how fast and shallow his breaths are. He closes his eyes and makes an effort to take deep breaths.

“You’re not broken,” Dean continues firmly. “Okay? Don’t ever think that.”

They sit in silence for a moment, Dean just rocking Castiel gently and pressing kisses to his head. Despite the panic he’s holding at bay, Castiel hasn’t felt this peaceful in many, many years.

“You had sex before,” Dean says, breaking the silence. “How’d you feel towards her body?”

“Nothing,” Castiel mumbles into Dean’s chest. “I felt nothing for her body. I enjoyed the sensations but nothing more. I also felt nothing towards Meg’s body. I loved her for who she was.”

“And that’s perfectly okay. I dunno what it is but you’re _not_ broken.”

Castiel just shrugs. There’s silence for another moment.

“I’ll have sex with you,” he says. Dean goes rigid.

“Cas, if you’re saying that just to make me happy or somethin’ –”

 “No, I _want_ to. I want to see if it feels any different with you, seeing as I actually love you. And if I don’t like it…you don’t have to be in a relationship with me. I won’t deprive you of something so important to you –”

“Cut it out,” Dean snaps. Castiel tries to pull away, a stone settling in his gut at how he’s made Dean mad, but Dean refuses to let him go. “You wanna know _why_ sex is so important to me? ‘Cause…it’s how I don’t feel so lonely. ‘S how I convince myself for a bit that I’m not so fucking alone. So if I have to give it up to be with you…dammit, Cas, you’re way more important than that.”

“But you have urges –”

“Why do you think God gave us right hands? I’m a big boy, Cas. I can take care of myself. I’m not gonna sleep with you just ‘cause you feel some twisted sort of obligation! That’s not fucking consent!”

“I want to see what it feels like with you, Dean. I’ve had it once. Another time won’t be such a big deal.”

“Christ, Cas, can you actually care about yourself for once?”

Castiel ignores Dean’s outburst in favour of drawing back and cupping his face with one hand.

“I consent, Dean,” he says, slowly and firmly. “I give you my full consent to have sex with me. If I change my mind, I’ll withdraw my consent. But I do want to do this. I want to see what it’s like to sleep with somebody who I actually have feelings for. I’m curious.”

Dean stares at him for what feels like an eternity, but Cas knows it to only be twenty six seconds.

“Fine,” Dean finally says. He leans in to kiss Castiel but then pulls back, ignoring Castiel’s displeased sound. “But the minute you feel even a tiny bit uncomfortable or you wanna stop, you tell me. Capiche?”

Castiel’s thrown back to a time when everything was far simpler and he didn’t feel quite so utterly broken, even if he still held no concern for whether he lived or died.

“I capiche,” he says. Dean gives him a small smile, and then they’re kissing again and Dean’s trying to unknot his tie. Castiel raises a hand to simply will their clothing away but Dean catches it.

“Nope. No mojo.”

So Castiel obediently lowers his hand and allows Dean to strip him of his clothing. Once fully nude, he crawls up the bed and settles on his back, reclining against the pillows. Dean’s eyes roam over him, the hunger in his eyes clear as day, and it fills Castiel with warmth to know that Dean wants him so much, even if he doesn’t feel the same draw back. But sex is supposed to be such an intimate act, so Castiel hopes that he’ll enjoy it with Dean and that it will turn out to be as intimate as humans claim. The physical sensations had felt nice enough when he’d first had it, but he hasn’t really been in a hurry to feel them again.

He pushes his thoughts aside when a naked Dean crawls on top of him and lowers himself down to press Castiel’s body into the bed. Castiel’s breath hitches at the heat that spreads through him from his groin, where his erect penis shows that he’s physically aroused by the feel of Dean on top of him.

“This okay? You all good?” Dean says. His forearms rest on either side of Castiel’s head so that the angel feels boxed in, but Castiel doesn’t feel trapped at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. Dean will back off with just one word – and he can throw Dean off as easily as lifting a feather. They both know that only Castiel’s deep trust allows Dean to pin him like this.

“Yes. I like it,” Castiel smiles, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair as he’s wanted to do for a long time. “I feel safe with you, Dean. I like having you on top of me.”

Dean grins down at him.

“Just make sure you tell me if you don’t like something,” he says firmly before leaning down to kiss Castiel again. Castiel groans into the kiss happily. This is easily his favourite activity now, and if he could spend the rest of his existence kissing Dean then he will be the happiest person alive.

“Cas?” Dean says when he pulls back for air. “‘S okay if I’m – y’know – inside you?”

Castiel’s not sure how to feel. Dean seems to pick up on this because he immediately starts to back off.

“No.” Castiel tugs Dean back against him. “It’s okay, Dean. You can be inside me.”

He’s been inside somebody before, so he’s curious to see what it feels like to have someone inside _him_. Dean stares at him for a long moment.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I am, Dean. It’s okay.”

“Okay. I gotta prep you first.”

‘Prepping’ involves Dean using his fingers and ample amounts of lubricant to stretch Castiel wide, while Castiel writhes and pants underneath him as heat simmers and sparks deep inside his abdomen. It’s far more pleasurable than the last time he’d had sex, and the feeling as his prostate is stimulated is far different to any penile stimulation he’d received when sleeping with the reaper.

“Cas. Hey.”

Castiel realises that Dean has withdrawn his fingers, leaving him strangely disappointed. It’s not so much the physical stimulation but the fact that it’s _Dean_ giving it to him that’s making him feel so good.

“Y-Yes, Dean?”

“We need condoms? I’m clean but I keep ‘em so I don’t pull a Lucifer and pop a bun in some poor chick’s oven.”

Castiel squints up at Dean, trying to will his heartbeat to a more normal rate.

“Clean?”

“STIs. Y’know, diseases you can catch from doing the do. You’re s’posed to wear a condom to keep from getting them from your partner. Last time I checked with a doc, I’m all good.”

While Castiel wishes that Dean would talk in far more understandable English, he wouldn’t change Dean’s extreme tendency for colloquialisms and idioms for anything.

“I can’t catch human diseases, nor can I transmit any to you. If you still want to use a condom, I don’t particularly mind.”

Dean just shrugs.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes, Dean. I want this.”

Being penetrated is…odd. And the sex itself isn’t what Castiel enjoys most about sleeping with Dean. No, what truly makes him happy is seeing Dean lost in the throes of passion; knowing that it’s _Dean_ sliding in and out of him, giving him this pleasure. Dean’s eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open as he pants and thrusts into Castiel, but Castiel’s eyes are wide open and fixed on Dean, drinking in every tiny detail about the man he’s given everything up for time and time again. This, he feels, is what makes sex feel so amazing, and he thinks that he could enjoy sharing this experience with Dean on a regular basis so long as he can watch Dean come undone.

“Cas –” Dean gasps, grabbing Castiel’s hands and pinning them to either side of his head, their fingers linked. “God – Cas – so good – perfect – need you so much –”

Pride courses through Castiel at being the reason for Dean’s pleasure. He’s rather indifferent to the act of sex itself but…seeing Dean so open and vulnerable like this is such a gift, one that he’ll cherish for the rest of his existence.

It’s not long before Dean seizes up, groaning, “ _Cas_!” and releasing deep inside Castiel as he smashes their lips together in a rough kiss. Only once Dean has reached ecstasy does Castiel allow himself to climax as well, tipping his head back and gasping as his back arches and he spills all over his stomach. His hands wrench free of Dean’s so that he can dig his fingernails into Dean’s shoulder blades, almost drawing blood. A pleasant, deep exhaustion starts to settle over his body as he sinks back into the bed, his arms wrapped around Dean and squeezing him tightly.

“Can’t…breathe…” Dean wheezes. Castiel immediately releases him, a silly smile spreading across his face at the dopy grin that Dean gives him.

“My apologies,” Castiel says. Dean just laughs as he withdraws from Castiel and slides off him, rolling onto his back and gathering Castiel in his arms. Castiel snuggles into Dean’s side with a content sigh. He’s dreamed of being the one to hold Dean to him but this is just as wonderful and he has no complaints whatsoever.

“Can you clean us off?” Dean says. “Y’know, divine cleaning or whatever?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to use my ‘mojo’,” Castiel says dryly. Dean laughs again and calls him an asshole in a fond voice, so Castiel wills away the mess on his stomach and inside him with a thought.

“That was okay?” Dean asks. “You didn’t hate it or anything?”

Castiel ponders how to verbalise his feelings.

“The act itself was…rather trivial,” he finally says. “Rather like the last time I had sex. It felt nice but that’s about all.”

“Oh.” Dean sounds disappointed.

“But,” Castiel continues, “seeing you so lost in pleasure…that’s what I enjoyed most. That’s what allowed me to achieve climax. I think so long as I can watch you and know that I’m providing you with this pleasure, I can enjoy it. I always like seeing you happy.”

Dean smiles proudly and holds him closer, stroking Castiel’s hair softly. Castiel’s eyes flutter shut as he loses himself in the feelings of being held by Dean and caressed by Dean and actually treated like something of value. He can’t remember if he’s ever been treated as something so valuable where his grace doesn’t factor in. He can’t even remember ever feeling so loved.

“I’m not going to help Heaven,” he says suddenly. Dean momentarily stops stroking his hair in surprise.

“You’re not?”

“No. I don’t need them. Not if you’ll have me. All I want is…just to feel like I belong somewhere, and like I’m wanted.”

“You _do_ belong here,” Dean says firmly, lifting Castiel’s chin so that he can kiss the angel. “And you _are_ wanted here.”

Castiel grins widely at him and stretches up to kiss him deeply.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean kisses him once more, then resumes his stroking of Castiel’s dark hair. Castiel once again closes his eyes and allows himself, for once, to feel valued.


End file.
